Oh, the old familiar places
by DaniInWonderland
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzell is new to the staff at Arkham and has dealt with countless number of psychopaths, but what happens when Gotham's latest celebrity is admitted...Could she follow through? Takes place after the Dark Knight.
1. Chapter 1

She twirled the yellow Ticonderoga pencil through her fingers nervously, and then stuck it back in her messy blonde bun. Harleen Quinzel, now 23 years old; was as anxious as ever. She sat back in her itchy, coffee stained computer chair and watched the clock tick away. Any minute now, Arkham's most anticipated infamous celebrity was about to walk through those doors. Just keep calm she told herself. He's just like any other patient you've ever dealt with, besides the fact he is a sadistic sly-talking clown, nothing has changed. Behind her, she could hear the footsteps. On the back of her neck, chilled beads of sweat began to run down her spine. The clock struck 12 noon, and in he walked. Adorned with the complete look of black, white and red makeup; two scars that made him always grin and a purple suit. "Hello, my name is Ms. Quinzel and I will be your psychiatrist during your stay at Arkham." I politely stuck out my hand for him to shake, hesitantly. "Well hellllo, beautiful," running his tongue over his lips compulsively. I dropped my hand almost instantly, the very look of him made my skin crawl. She had remembered what an old friend had told her, and the words echoed through her mind even now: "Some people just want to watch the world burn." She finally came back to reality to catch him say "What's the matter sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" The guard forcefully sat him down on the chase, and walked away with his gun still clutched in his hands. I glanced over his file, to find that not only was there a very brief chart of information, but that his name was undetermined. He was twiddling his thumbs and laid back on the sofa staring at the ceiling. But I looked into his eyes, and through them. I could tell he was lonely, and sadness was something he was very familiar with. But yet again, my professional side took over and I sat myself in the chair next to him, with my clipboard of redundant questions in hand. "How long have you had thoughts like these, Mr. - umm, Mr. Joker?" My question flew right over his head and instead he began to ramble. "Wanna know how I got these scars?" I could feel my eyes dilate, I've heard stories of this before. "My mother…was a drinker, and always paranoid. She would continually take her anger out on me because my father had multiple affairs. Sometimes I would go to bed with my eyes open. One night, she flips out on me for dropping juice on the carpet. Most mothers would spank you, or put soap in your mouth, but no - not her. She took me into the bathroom with a pocketknife in her hands. Then she said 'open your mouth' and so I did. She said 'this will teach you to behave' and with two quick jabs of the blade, from that day on I was always smiling." I cringed at the site of the worn scars. He grinned at me. I tried to avoid eye contact. "So Harleen. That sounds too stiff. You should call yourself Har-_ley. Now that's better." "I'd like to concentrate more on you, sir." My eyes shifted around the room, and I had found myself at a loss for words. I began to trace my fingers over the scars I bore on my wrists, now almost invisible after all these years. "Ahhh, now those are something." I looked up to find him staring at the pale scars on my wrists. "I bet, that was your daddy's handiwork, hm?" "That's not up for discussion, Mister J" I replied sharply. "He wake you up at night to keep him company?" "Shut your mouth. I don't want to hear another goddamn word, you hear me?" I was almost yelling now. This made him smile. "Wanna know what I think?" "I think he raped you. And not just once, continually. But mommy dearest never said a word." "And by the look of your personality, I bet you put up a fight. No, no. I don't think he liked that one bit. He tied you up, and that's where those babies came from." I felt my eyes starting to sting and fill with water, I got up silently and left he room. "I was right wasn't I? Damn I'm good!" he said. I pushed pass the guard and left early. This was going to be much harder than I anticipated._


	2. Chapter 2

Up until now, I had never doubted my job or my authority for that matter. But being around that clown has been driving me absolutely insane. Fourth day at Arkham, here we go. I hurriedly walked into the building, my red stilettos clacking against the linoleum. From down the hall I could see him in his glass cage. They had taken away his most prized possessions, his purple suit and makeup. It was strange looking at him, he had this aura of humanity around him when he was not in his Joker form. I inched my thick glasses up the bridge of my nose before hesitantly opening up the door.

"Why good morning , honey!" he exclaimed. "Your to address me as Dr. Quinzell, thank you." "Your looking ravishing as usual" he said, looking me up and down and running his tongue over his lips. "Eyes up here," I gestured. "Now before we start our session, is there anything you would like to mention or comment on?" "Harl, ya know what I noticed?" "And what's that sir?" I rolled my eyes. "Ya don't smile enough!" "C'mere, I could fix that" he grinned. For once, I wondered if this sham of a man had an ounce of humanity left in him. The things he had seen, the things he's done…How could someone possibly bottle that up? I looked back up at him. "You look nervous. Is it the scars?" he asked. "No. It's just you" I bluntly replied. He stood up, causing me to jump a little. Raising his hands which were cuffed he said, "No need to worry, I'm not going anywhere…for now," he smiled. He walked over to the chase and laid down putting his arms behind his head. "I have a, ah- request. "And what would that be?" "- I want my makeup back. I want it. I want my makeup," he stared at the floor. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Mister J." His eyes seemed to turn black and he stared at me coldly. "…Do they ever hurt?" I asked, looking away. He sighed. "Look at me - hey…LOOK AT ME!" he growled. "Do they frighten you, Harl? They make me look like a _freak _don't they? You see, it's you people that are the cause of everything. You cast out those who are different, and try to give everyone little labels." "How long will it take you guys to realize that not all the world is black and white? There are many shades of _grey." "It's about sending a message," _he ranted.


End file.
